


Fate Cornucopia

by KomodoLass



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/EXTRA, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Cannon Concepts, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Series, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 02:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11152791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KomodoLass/pseuds/KomodoLass
Summary: Following the conclusion fifth grail war, and the dismantling of the Greater Grail, murmurs of a unique ritual spread through the Mage’s Association. Carefully abiding by the whims of Grail-fearing officials, two powerful families construct a ceremony not to unlike it’s spiritual predecessor. Seven Masters, Seven Servants, one among them a vessel for the hollow horn of legend.  {One cannon Saber! Otherwise only cannon concepts! }





	1. Eve of the War

The evening air was crisp in the carefully selected town. The soft hum of life all but smothered by the rising night. To the west, the ships of the humble port where rocked gently by the tide, to the east, the vast woodlands were filled with but rustles, no creature dare make a noise. They could sense the magic crack through the air as it filled their valley with an almost electric presence. Four remained unsummoned until the eve of the event; the hosts, and one frightened guest.

Another silent gust of magic swelled through the sky near the southern tip of the boundary, an otherwise uninhabited section of woodlands. The sudden flash of light followed this large magical output, coating the area in bright whiteness.

A hush fell over the previously illuminated but dilapidated hovel at the center of the magical anomaly. Henning, the cowering master, kneeled within, covering his eyes as the light dissipated. Henning lowered his sleeve to look about the rotted structure. Blinking, Henning couldn’t quite adjust his eyes to the brightness that still stood before him. At first, he figured the light of the ritual still remained, however, this hypothesis proved to be false. Henning’s heart nearly stopped as he realized exactly what he was looking at. Looming over the summoning circle, Henning gaze fell upon his servant. He was struck with awe at the beauty of the man that stood before him. The servant was tall and delicately muscular with a lean stance. He stood out against the inky blackness of the evening with fair feminine white skin. The servant had long platinum blond hair and beard, both were braided elegantly in a style and complexity foreign to Henning. His clothing was also light in color, almost shimmering, and clung to his body tightly with the exception of a loose bit of drapery that attached at his waist and hung open in the front, mid-calf. The servant was silent at first, slowly breathing in the unfamiliar air before acknowledging the master that was before him.

“I hope you had a good reason to summon me, mage.” He said in a voice as cool and calm as a pool of undisturbed water, meeting Henning’s stare with his striking violet eyes. 

Henning was caught off guard by the servant’s words. He’d never read or even heard about a servant behaving in this manner upon first summoning. At least in the preceding Grail Wars. But even as Henning tried to gather himself to explain the situation, the beautiful servant seemed to put the pieces together, noting the command seal, summoning circle, and the cloak that lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. All as the predetermined knowledge assigned to the servant seeped through his mind.  

“I have no interest in your petty quest.” The servant spoke firmly.

Henning blinked, still stunned. “But I--” He managed to say. 

“I will not humor your delusions little mage. I do not know how you managed to summon me, but there isn't anything magic could provide for me.” The servant finished, turning away from his master.  

“Hold on!” Henning pleaded, “You don’t understand, I didn’t have a choice!”

“Then why are you here, little mage.” The servant spoke coldly. “There isn’t any wish the this ceremony can grant that you cannot live without.”

“I don’t care about the wish!” Henning shouted, standing up. “Months ago, this... this mark appeared on my hand. My family was agast! We thought it was over. Told it was dismantled, banned. But here I am!” The master explain, his voice cracking with emotion, “I don’t fight, I never have. But I’ve lost everything...” He trailed off.

The servant turn back toward it’s master, intrigued. 

“If you don’t want to do this, I understand. I won’t use a command seal to make you change your mind.” Henning said softly, lowering his head “ I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through this.” 

A silence hung between the two as Henning gazed down at his own feet, unable to look at his servant as he bit back tears. However, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

“You want to survive.” The servant clarified.

Henning slowly raised his head, his eyes filled with sorrow.

“I just want to go back to what I was. Return to my friends and family, forget about all of this.” Henning “If there were any other way, I’d have done it by now.”

The servant studied it’s masters expression for a few moments.

“You are sincere in your desire, and I understand your predicament.” The servant explained, “But I cannot guarantee you’ll put this behind you.”

Henning opened his mouth to speak, but the servant continued. 

“While I may have been chosen to serve as Lancer, I am no hero. Remember that, little mage.” He added, “I will keep the two of us alive, and nothing more. I have no desire to win, but I will protect you until my inevitable expiration as your servant.”

“Lancer…” Henning murmured, testing the word by letting it roll off of his tongue. 

“I can only guarantee your survival.” Lancer repeated. “But if by some miracle, you obtain your wish, do with it as you will.” 

“Is that a contract then?” Henning asked suddenly, uncertainty riddling his expression. 

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Lancer finished. 

Henning let out a breath and nodded.  “Alright.” 

* * *

It was strange to him, to be walking up the same path the innumerable pilgrims had taken before him to see the holy relics, when he himself had a relic following close behind him. Henning remembered studying it, entire towns were built around the grand cathedrals, all  benefiting from the travelers who came from every kingdom in europe to see the shawl of the virgin mary, the nails that held christ against the cross, hairs of hero's, body parts of saints, or any other fantastical piece of religious history.  More often than not, these relics were little more than frauds, and a vast majority of the real relics were heavily guarded rather than made attractions. Regardless of their authenticity the footprints of those all-believing pilgrims soon made paths, then cobblestone roads, all leading to the heart of every city, it’s cathedral. Walking these roads was haunting. Even as the evening darkened, Henning could still feel the shimmering presence of his servant as he followed in the heals of his master invisible to the naked eye. He still wasn’t sure how to feel about the uninterested Lancer he now commanded. They hadn't exactly spoken that much since they’d sealed their contract. Lancer wasn’t exactly talkative; he merely followed his master silently. Which did little to quell Hennings growing anxiety over the situation the two were preparing to walk into. 

As they rounded behind a particularly quiet building, Henning finally spoke up.

“Lancer, if you have no interest in this ritual… why were you summoned?”

The servant did not materialize.

“For the same reason you intend to participate in this war.”

Henning frowned, but kept walking, uncertain what Lancer ment. 

“So you’ve lost something dear to you?” Henning pressed.

“No, little mage. I simply know regret.” Lancer answered simply.

“Regret?” Henning thought, unsure of what to make of the response. 

As the mage pondered upon the servant’s words the two made their final approach the the cathedral. It was larger than Henning remembered it.

The buildings sharp black outline stuck out against the inky night sky, gnarled with towering spires of brick and stone that reached toward the darkened heavens. It stood testament to hundreds of years of christianity, a daunting and terrifying form of unmatched gothic style. Henning found himself petrified as he stood just outside it’s gates. The half illuminated structure would be the final resting place of his former life, as displayed in the portal that ribbed the massive wooden doors; the last judgment. It didn’t help that the glass rose window, ment to assure mankind with images of hope, wasn’t lit. 

“We cannot wait here all night, little mage.” Lancer murmured.

Henning gulped and placed one foot over the threshold of the gate. His body felt heavy as he continued to move across the courtyard and up to the door. He could feel every hundreds of eyes fall upon him, real or otherwise. Every carving and statue seemed to gaze at him and his invisible servant as he made his approach, from saint to gargoyle. Even as his trembling fingers reached for the large iron knocking handles on the door he was suffocated by guilt.  As he pulled back the ring of metal he felt the door jolt forward, and henning nearly jumped out of own skin. Releasing the handle, Henning stepped back and the door swung open. 

A man  of African descent loomed in the doorway, clad in in the traditional black attire of a priest. He was considerably taller than the rather meekly sized Henning. But his voice was contrastingly calm and comforting. 

“ I would presume you aren't here for sunday mass.” He said in an even tone.

Henning swallowed, “ I-I I’m here for the Cornucopia“

The man nodded, and too a step back, motioning for the master to enter the cathedral. “The meeting will begin shortly.” 

Henning bowed his head slightly and stepped across the threshold. But Lancer’s spirit did not follow. Henning whipped around when he noticed the servant’s absence only to find a closed door behind him. As well as a still calm priest. 

“Servants will remain outside of this neutral ground.” He clarified. 

Henning sunk back, a bit embarrassed. 

“T-That makes sense.” The master chuckled, turning his attention back to the interior of the cathedral. “Have any other Masters arrived yet?”

The priest nodded. 

“Follow me.”

* * *

_ Saber: _ _  Unknown _ _ | Master: Unknown _

Lancer:  _Identity Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Henning Anolen_

Archer _ : _Unknown_ _| Master: Unknown_ _

Caster:  _Unknown_ _| Master: Unknown_

Rider: _Unknown_ _| Master: Unknown_

Assassin: _Unknown_ _| Master: Unknown_

Berserker: _Unknown_ _| Master: Unknown_


	2. Inroductions

Lancer watched as his master disappeared behind the heavy cathedral doors. The servant felt no ill will from the priest despite his master's very apparent nervousness, negating his concern. Lancer shifted away from the cathedrals grand entrance to float across the modest courtyard. He passed over the carefully preened bushes and lawn before reaching the iron fence that surrounded the structure. The servant merely wisped up the side, before taking up a perch on its parapet. Still unseen, Lancer took to reclining, as he looked out across the courtyard before him. While silent, there was no doubt in the servant's mind that others were present. The magical energies varied, but he could make out two others in his general vicinity. This wasn’t all too surprising to the servant, considering the first and final meeting between all participating masters was occurring just beyond the walls of the cathedral. Their servants had to wait somewhere.

Furthermore Lancer was certain if they’d meant him or his master any harm, they would have acted by now. They were seemly just as complacent as Lancer, for now at the very least. Without any kind of verbal agreement, a mutual indifference was met. Lancer glanced over to the cathedral’s facade. Allowing his thoughts to wander.  

A smile spread across Lancer’s invisible face as he humored his situation. His eyes flicked up to the sky as he mulled everything over. His luck with mages was never very good, was it?  Their blind persistence, and tendency towards selfishness where but a few of their follies the Lancer had come to know well.  Though Lancer could never recall a time where there spells didn’t fade, or work out for the better in the end. Except for one. Before he could finish his thoughts, he was struck with the sensation of an approaching energy. His attention fell upon the gateway to the courtyard, as two figures emerged from the darkness beyond it.

Of equal height, one, the male, was of little note to the servant. Clad in dark robes, he scurried up the path beside his obviously female companion. She on the other hand, was of serious concern. In contrast to the man, she was brightly dressed in a gown of gold and crimson, cut in such a way to tease onlookers. However her demeanor was far from sultry. The way she walked was with a self righteous power, unfettered and very much domineering to her companion. The two approached the cathedral doors much in the same way Lancer and Henning had done but a few minutes before. The man rapped the door fervently once he passed over the steps. The priest once again pushed open the door and Lancer watched with deeper intrigue.

“Lampri,” The priest spoke in a surprised and concerned tone, “ Mildrake said you’d be sumo--”

“That doesn’t matter.” The man spat. “ What’s done is done, the old man tests my patience.”

The priest frowned but waved the man inside, the woman on the other hand, remained in the courtyard, plainly in view.

Lancer held his breath as she turned around, looking across the seemingly empty courtyard. She smirked.

“So we are to sit here, tied to posts like horses?” She said aloud to the silence. “Surely they’re mistaken. Are they not?”

Lancer, nor any of the other two servants answered, and the woman began to pace about the green space.

“Humor me.” She chuckled, holding out her arms. “This may be our last time to talk like this. I won’t be nearly as merciful come tomorrow.”

Her hands rested on her hips as she waited for a reply, her eyes darting across the courtyard as she awaited a response.

“No?” She she huffed, rubbing her chin, before suddenly perking up again, “ Ah! I see now. You’ve all been acquainted before.” She smiled, giving a shrug, “I can understand your wariness. But the fact none of you can recognize an Empress is a crime in itself!” The woman laughed. “But I’ll allow it, at the very least I can educate those of you who know not of my glorious reign. For I am Empress Nero!” She announced holding one of her hands towards the sky. A swell of magical energy burst into existence at her palm as her gnarled black and red weapon materialized. “Of the Saber class. The only one noble enough to suit me… Now do introduce yourselves, my lovely subjects.”

* * *

 

Henning was led along the pews of the cathedral by the priest. The Master nervously glanced at the eaves and ribs of the structures interior, it dwarfed him. Before he could comment on the church’s ornamentation to lighten the mood, the two had arrived at a door to one of the buildings many side rooms. Wordlessly, the priest pushed it open and motioned Henning to enter. The Master blinked for a moment, looking into the room. It was well lit but completely empty. Henning turned to address the matter but his words were met with a frown.

“I’d expect a mage to know a concealment spell.” The priest huffed.

“O-Oh! My apologies.” Henning replied sheepishly, before quickly and awkwardly stepping into the room.

He could feel the veil of magic gently pass through him as he moved through the threshold. It was a refreshing feeling as he passed through to the other side, a final brief pleasantry as he spotted the other four masters that occupied the room.  

They were all seated around a rectangular table, one man and one woman to Hennings left, another woman to the right, and an elderly man sat at the opposing head of the table. The man and woman on the on the left looked to be of Spanish and German bloodlines, the elderly man a possible Englishman, and the lone woman on the left was of mixed descent, predominantly African. They’re shared demeanors were oddly casual, even as Henning approached the meeting table.

The first to note his approach was the Elderly man.

“I’m glad to see you’ve arrived, Anolen.” He nodded rather solemnly. “We were worried you would not make it.”

“It wasn’t hard to find…” Henning replied, sliding into the free right side seat.

The man that sat across from the meek master gave a sharp nod to the woman who sat next to Henning. She grumbled, and slid a small coin purse across the table.

Henning was a bit taken aback by the transaction.

“Didn’t expect an Anolen to be able to summon a servant.” The losing woman spat, crossing her arms. “Your European bloodline is old and weak.”  

“Ms. Van Brecht.” The elderly man spoke up. “Now is not the time.”

She sneered and leaned back in her chair, but otherwise dropped the subject.

“But yes.” The other woman added, “You’re family isn’t exactly known for complex or bountiful magic circuits. Which came as quite the surprise when you received the command seal.”

The man beside her gave another sharp nod.

“Regardless.” The elderly man continued, “I called us all here to go over the rules of this ceremony and while two still remain absent, we can at the very least begin our introductions.”

There was a murmur of approval amongst the Masters.  

“I’d rather us be aware of each other's identities prior to the commencement. As to protect outsiders from being mistaken as involved Masters.” The elder proceeded, “ As you are all aware I, Darius of the Mildrake Family, am the organizer of this ceremony. I am accompanied in orchestrating this with the Le Barb family, whose representative seems to be absent.” He finished before nodding towards the German woman, who obliged.

“I will be following through with the command of the Mage’s association as their selected participant and co-organizer.” She said, pushing a few strands of her strawberry blond hair out of her face, “You may address me as Mrs. Sauer.”

“Now we get to the wild cards!” The woman beside Henning laughed, turning to him, “ You, Lucientes, and I are all the unexpected selections!”

“Lucientes?” Henning questioned, glancing at the still silent man across for him.

“Yeah, he isn’t one to talk.” She shrugged.

“Nia, some respect please.” Mrs. Sauer huffed, unamused.

The newly dubbed Nia rolled her eyes. “You weren't hesitant in calling out the Anolen. Why not point out the mute?”

“It’s Henning…” The meek master intergectied.

Before Nia or the others could retort to Henning’s self proclamation, another master stormed through the door and magical barrier.

“Lampri.” Darius said sternly as the dark haired man hastily took up the remaining seat, “You’re late.”

“I had more important matters to attend to.” Lampri replied in an unapologetically frank tone. Resting his chin on his hand.

Darius’s face creased with frustration as he observed the fresh command seal upon the Master’s hand.

“Clearly.” Darius rumbled. “I suspect you didn’t find our missing master?”

Lampri shooked his head, and Darius let out a sigh.

“Then we must continue without them for the time being.” Darius proceeded, leaning against the table before shakily rising to his feet. “ I know you are all aware of the disasters surrounding the Holy Grail Wars Fuyuki, our intention is not to replicate them, but to improve upon them. The cost of life they present and the way it often exceeded the seven masters involved is what we plan on avoiding, is it not?”

Everyone gave nods of approval as Darius moved across the room. “It’s taken me decades of study and manipulation to properly prepare for this ceremony, and even still I was unable to avoid the potential cost of life amongst ourselves…”

The Masters were silent.

“I have given each of you a chance to summon your servants, and it seems most of you have.” Darius spoke, glaring at Lampri, “ The last of the organizers, including myself and Mrs. Sauer will be completing our summonings after this meeting. The moment my servant comes into fruition, the ritual will begin. The rules should be obvious as of this moment. You are not to harm any of residence or humans within or around the boundaries of Sograal during this ceremony, nor can you flee. Alliances are to be expected. And this cathedral is neutral ground...”

Henning let out a shallow breath as the weight of Darius’s words fully engulfed him.

“...Both the Mage’s Association and the Holy Church will be observing this ritual and will step in if things get out of hand.” Darius finished, “I do hope you all understand.”

He was met with a chorus of yes and nods, and he sunk back into his chair.

“Then this concludes our--”

Darius’s words were cut short by a sudden pounding at the door. Mrs. Sauer immediately jumped to her feet to address the situation, opening the door to find the priest exasperated.

“What’s happening?!” She asked quickly, dispersing the concealment spell.

“That’s what I was going to ask you!” He shouted back, “Can you not hear it?!”

Suddenly, the cathedral seemed to shudder, accompanied by the sound of clashing weapons that all had been previously silenced by the concealment spell.

“Shit.” Lampri said suddenly, knocking back his chair and bolting for the door.

“Hold on!” Darius shouted at the man as practically flew out the door, before looking at the other stunned Masters, “Follow him!” He roared.

* * *

 

 

 _Saber:_ _Nero_ _| Lampri Le Barb_

Lancer:  _Identity Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Henning Anolen_

Archer _:_ _Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Unknown_

Caster: _Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Unknown_

Rider:  _Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Unknown_

Assassin: _Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Unknown_

Berserker: _Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Unknown_

 


	3. Performance & Identity

All eye fell on the self-dubbed Saber. Her words were not met with any kind of response from the invisible servants. The empress lowered and frowned.

“You wound my pride, dear subjects.” She said with a sigh, turning away. “I’d hope this evening would have been a grand prelude of heros. But it seems I’ve been summoned amongst a rabble of cowards.” Lancer grew concerned with her words, and began to shift back. “However, no one can deny their empress a final performance.” She whipped back around. Her sword quickly slashing the space around her, before slamming it into the ground. Before any of the servants could react to her actions, she flung her arms apart, and sung out: “ Aestus Domus Aurea!” 

A rapid swell of magical energy swirled up around her, and exploded outward. Caught in the radius, all three servants were struck with a flash of light. Lancer could feel his form forcefully rematerializing as his eyes adjusted to the light. Before he could even try to see the other two servants, Lancer was quickly overwhelmed with his surroundings. They were at the heart of a massive in-the-round theater, beautifully ornate in its decoration and design. Columns and ornamentation of gold  overlapped the overpoweringly velvet crimson that filled the space. It was an extravagant stage that matched it’s equally extravagant user.  

“With that settled,” Nero chuckled, happily looking about her theater and it’s newfound  guests, “Why don’t you three introduce yourselves.”

Lancer, as well as the two other servants were absolutely dumbfounded. Even as Nero continued to stand before them, exuding confidence.

Lancer took a moment to glance over the other two servants. Neither held weapons, nor did it seem they were dressed for combat. Closest to Lancer stood a tall almond-skinned man, adorned in but a few robes, shimmering gold jewelry, and an elaborate headdress that seemed to elongate his features further. This mysterious servant held himself in a rather odd manner, looking to be in his late 30’s early 40’s,  with an elite air about him. Further away was a woman, taller and older than Saber, but shorter than Lancer. A thick mane of tight black curls cascaded down her shoulders and upper back, and her clothing was but a loose blouse and long skirt held to her by a bound waist corset. She also seemed the most irritated by the situation, her expression stern and unfettered by Saber’s displays.

“And why should we do that.” The woman spat at Saber, her words laced with an accent Lancer couldn’t discern. 

“It’s only courteous.” Saber sneered, looking over the woman, her disgust clear. “ Though I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand that.” 

The other female servant grimaced, her hands curling into fists before she crossed her arms. Turning up her nose she let out a scoff then spoke.    
“It’s like a tyrant to misjudge her people.”

The corners of Saber’s mouth twitched as anger seemed to rise in her throat. Lancer and the other male servant watched as her expression twisted with rage.

“I suggest you tread carefully, miss.” Saber said, her tone far from even, “ We wouldn’t want casualties before the ritual.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Likewise.” She huffed. “I’m sure your master would be very disappointed to end his bid so early.”

Lancer saw the muscles on Saber’s neck and shoulders tense up as she took a step towards the other female servant. 

“Exactly.” The other male servant interjected, physically shifting himself in front of the other female servant, “ There is no need for us to end this ritual before it even begins.” He said, finishing with a slight bow to Saber and the other servant. 

“It seems at least one of you have manners befitting of a challenger.” Saber sneered, her temper evening out. “And who do I have the pleasure of such an introduction?”

“Caster.” He said simply with a smile as he took a step back. 

Lancer frowned as Caster moved to reduce the tension between the two women with more idle conversation, all the while dancing around his actual identity. 

“... I must say your theater is quite lovely.” Caster continued, “I’m sure we all appreciate it’s beauty. I know I’ve always had a weakness for artistic merit.”

The other female servant gave a reluctant grunt in agreement as Saber beamed. 

“I’m glad to have such a cultured subject in my presence!” Saber chimed in before turning to face the silent Lancer, “But what say you? Have you not seen something so glorious?”

Lancer gazed down at her, his violet eyes unwavering as he spoke, “ I have no interest in your frivolity.”

Saber blinked, taken aback by the servants words, before promptly shifting to a familiar state of frustration. 

“What gives you the authority to call my theater frivolous, servant? Hm?”  She growled, stepping closer to him in a rather imposing fashion despite her small stature. 

Caster looked nervously over at Lancer as he continued with his response.   

“I do not need authority to judge when someone's creations bear no merit.” 

“Is that so?” Saber grinned, her rage obviously swelling. 

Lancer had grown tired of her games, so his reply was swift and tactless. “Especially the creations of a tyrant.”

Before Caster or the other servant could even draw a breath, they were surprised with the sudden crash of metal onto a substance of equal if not more strength. Within that same instant, the theater around them dispersed and swelled back towards the servant that summoned it as raw magical energy. It wasn’t until a second crash shook the ground that the two other servants caught sight of what was going on. 

Saber stood with her back to them, clutching her gnarled sword tightly against a shimmering white lance that was tightly spiraled. Both of their weapons briefly interlocked before swiftly jerking apart. 

Saber shifted back on her heal before springing forward, slashing her weapon to her opponent's left, to which he quickly blocked with his own. 

“Lancer.” She hummed as she twirled into another attack, making note of his class.

Lancer grunted in response, pushing back her attack. Saber flitted back, her sword across her form as she took a moment to look at her opponent. He had been unphased by her sudden attacks, not even a single shimmering hair was out of place. Saber grinned as her weapon filled with a new fervorous light. 

She darted forward once more, slashing towards his shoulders and throat. Expectedly her sword did not reach it’s mark as Lancer shifted back and moved his weight in such a way the piqued Saber’s curiosity. 

She swung again, studying his motions. There was a controlled wildness to the way he struck back against her, a distinctness in which muscles pulled along his arm and throat when his lance struck her sword. Saber’s previous fit of anger had all but diminished, and had been replaced by an intense curiosity. 

Her attacks did not relent. She pressed closer with each slash of her saber, until they were but inches from one another. Saber jabbed forward, purposely snagging her sword on Lancer’s weapon. Quickly, she leaned in, and murmured: 

“Who are you?”

Lancer unlocked his lance from his opponent's weapon and took hold with both of his hands. Thrusting it forward with intense speed to knock Saber back a considerable amount. 

“I will not risk the safety of my master any further.” He huffed, watching Saber steady herself. “I suggest you do the same.” 

Saber smirked. “ I haven’t risked anything, Lancer.” She said, holding out her sword towards the other servant, “I’ve merely been sampling my oppone--”

Her words were cut short by the sound of the cathedral doors slamming open, as well as the sudden cry of her Master.

“Saber! Stop this at once!” Lampri called towards his servant, racing into the courtyard. 

Saber rolled her eyes and turned towards the oncoming youth. “ Oh what is it now?”

“The war hasn’t even started yet!” He hissed, motioning for her to disperse her weapon. “ Do you want to be disqualified?!”

“Lampri!” Boomed the commanding voice of Darius from the cathedral doors as he and the other four masters emerged from within. “What is the meaning of this?!”

* * *

 

_Saber:_ _Nero_ _| Lampri Le Barb_

Lancer:  _Identity Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Henning Anolen_

Archer _:_ _Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Unknown_

Caster:  _Identity_ _Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Unknown_

Rider:  _Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Unknown_

Assassin: _Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Unknown_

Berserker: _Unknown_ _|_ Master: _Unknown_


End file.
